


Final Exam

by EvilDime



Series: London Calling [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Auror Training, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Neville Longbottom, BAMF Ron Weasley, Crossover, Fun, Gen, unconventional magic spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28808739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDime/pseuds/EvilDime
Summary: Sherlock and John get to witness Ron and Harry's practical auror exam.Missing scene from "London Calling", but can be read as a stand-alone.
Series: London Calling [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112093
Kudos: 41





	Final Exam

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote this. I nearly laughed tears upon re-reading what I'd done. I hope you'll get a kick out of it, as well. : )

Sherlock's head was filled with thoughts of Mary Morstan as he preceded John into the phone booth that Potter’s message had directed them to. His thoughts returned to their present situation after John had dialled the magic number and calmly stated their names and the purpose of their visit for the generic female answering machine voice.

Sherlock had not quite gotten used to the concept of post owls yet and there he was in a phone booth slowly sinking into the ground without any of the passers-by noticing.

Magic was a game-changer of spectacular proportions.

“Could any non-magical person just walk in like we did if they accidentally hit the right numbers, do you think?” John wondered, still remarkably calmly. The calm fractured somewhat and his arms shot out to steady him when the cabin suddenly lurched sideways, but John soon regained his equilibrium. Not for the first time, Sherlock marvelled at John’s steadfast character. Not only did the man fail to run screaming after the initial couple of weeks of cohabitation, in those first days of their acquaintance, but there was also an amazing lack of agitation in his bearing today - only a week after he found out that his wife used to be a murderous outlaw.

Sherlock was both intrigued and a little miffed at the fact that Mary had managed to fool him, Sherlock Holmes, first and only consulting detective and the finest deductive mind of the century - barring, possibly, his older brother; though Sherlock would throw himself off of St. Bart's without an extraction plan before he ever admitted that.

The phone booth screeched to an abrupt halt and spat the two men out into a madly chaotic scene. Huge fireplaces to both sides of a hall teeming with wizarding folk swallowed and ejected travelling wizards and witches left and right, potentially sentient paper planes criss-crossed overhead, there was a general brouhaha in the air and a sense of haphazard industriousness all around. John carefully led the way past what appeared to be a flock of walking, talking sheep over toward a likely reception desk while Sherlock was busy taking it all in.

"Wands?" a bored-looking wizard asked, more concerned with his newspaper than the visitors standing in front of his desk.

John cleared his throat. "We have none."

This got the man's attention. Finally looking up at them and granting them his full attention, he seemed confused by what he saw. "How did you get in here?"

"We were invited," John stated primly. He pointed to the button on his lapel that read in neat cursive script: "John Watson, spectator to auror exam".

The man appeared even more confused now. Sherlock deduced that auror practical examinations were not usually an event that people came to see. But that still did not explain… ah.

"Our invitation," he contributed, waving Potter's missive in the man's face.

The man's face cleared. "That's alright then. Up you go, level two." Interesting. So it was indeed impossible for just anyone to walk into that phone booth and get transported to the ministry; they had to either be magical or carry a magical item like that invitation on their person.

Curiously, the elevator the man had indicated did not  seem to  take them up, but rather down  six levels and still there were windows lining the hallway looking out on… a part of London that was nowhere near the phone booth they had entered. 

_Magic._ Sherlock scowled. 

His curiosity soon overtook his dislike of the concept of magic. Even with magic, there had to be rules. How did these windows work? If he tossed a coin out of this one, would it land in front of the phone booth or in what appeared to be Piccadilly Circus? Or  would it end up embedded in the earth that must actually surround this underground complex?  Was there some alternate dimension outside these windows that - 

"Sherlock, no!"

Decidedly not pouting, Sherlock returned his coin to his wallet and followed John down the hall.

"Misters Holmes and Watson?" a quiet voice asked. Sherlock tore his gaze from the fascinating view outside the windows and looked at the auror blocking their path. Well, the man wore full auror robes, anyway; but he did not wear them well. Quickly taking in the man's young age, his awkward deportment and the way he occasionally glanced around as though checking for someone's disapproval, Sherlock deduced: "You are new; recent graduate. A week, maybe two?" right on top of John's polite "Yes, that is us."

The man flashed them a quick smile. "I see the rumours are not exaggerated. My name is Neville Longbottom, I am a former classmate of Ron and Harry's and just passed my practical last week. Harry asked me to show you to the observation room for his exam and explain some of what's going on, if you don't mind."

"That's very kind, thank you."

Sherlock left the niceties and polite small talk to John while Longbottom led them through the auror department. It was much more exciting to survey the antiquated desks and primitive filing system that clashed with the occasional piece of mundane technology here and there and a general aura of efficient professionalism. A coffee machine was merrily puffing away over in one corner, switching out the full pots for new empty ones by itself. Two older aurors, one wearing an ancient-looking monocle and the other with her hair up in a strict bun, had their hands bent over a yellowed piece of parchment, but Sherlock saw that it held a report on the weapon stats concerning a recent gang shoot-out in central London. A couple of young office wizards were chattering over by the kitchen corner; Sherlock only caught snatches of their conversation.

"... that new broom I saw you riding last Thursday?"

"I got the new Firefly 3.0."

"Didn't you used to fly an Explorer?"

"That old home for bugs? Yeah. Kept crashing all the time, though…"

Eventually, they left the office section behind and entered a hall with very obviously Locked doors - bars, keep out signs, ominous glow and all.

"Some of these are cells, most are for advanced spell training," their auror escort explained. "And this is us." He stopped in front of a door as nondescript as all the others along the hallway. Sherlock wondered if the unmarked doors were an intentional diversionary tactic aimed at potential intruders of if wizards were just generally disorganized. What he had seen so far yielded equal amounts of evidence for both hypotheses.

Longbottom silently made some complicated gestures with his wand, the door gave a brief, green glow and then they were in.

The room they entered was small and bare but for a handful of chairs, two of them occupied by a middle-aged witch and wizard in auror robes. There were no windows. Sherlock frowned. How was this an observation room? Beside him, he felt John tense up, the soldier in him likely preparing to respond to a trap.

"Aurors Gentley and Riverbloom," Longbottom addressed his seniors respectfully. "These men are Misters Holmes and Watson, who requested to view Harry and Ron's exams."

"Thank you for bringing them, Neville," the female auror answered. "Please, have a seat, everyone. We are just getting ready to start."

Longbottom, not appearing to find anything wrong with the set-up, quickly took one of the seats arranged in a line facing the far wall. He gestured at Sherlock and John to follow suit. They both remained standing.

"How are we supposed to observe anything from here?" John asked, his tone not quite aggressive yet, but neither was it entirely pleasant.

The male senior auror raised his eyebrows at Longbottom, who shrugged and explained: "They are muggles."

"Ah."

Turning back toward Sherlock and John, Longbottom started to explain: "This is the practical exam for our world's elite police force. Lethal or at least highly damaging spells can and will be in use. Putting the examiners or, Merlin forbid, muggle bystanders into the same room would be a disastrous idea. Hence, we will view the proceedings remotely with the aid of magical-"

He broke off as the room's back wall flickered, then seemingly dissolved, opening to a vista of a large hall. The hall measured at least 10,000 square feet, but was otherwise just as bare as the observation room. This hall, as well, contained two people: Potter and Weasley were standing in the middle of the hall in their auror apprentice robes, facing each other, their wands held loosely in each man's right hand as they chatted amiably.

"Auror apprentices Potter and Weasley, are you ready for your practical examination to begin?" the male auror asked.

Both young men jumped to attention, eyes narrowing, stance widening.

"Ready, auror Riverbloom," Potter intoned.

"Ready," Weasley agreed.

The female auror, Gentley apparently, took over from her colleague. "We start with the formal duelling part. Standard duelling expert class C extended rules apply. Begin."

* * *

As Sherlock and John hastily took their seats, Longbottom quietly explained even while his attention remained fully focused on his two classmates: "The practical exam has two parts. The first part is formal duelling and often quite short. The apprentices go three rounds; each round ends when one or both contestants are incapacitated. The second part is a free duel outside the strict duelling rules; any and all spellwork and even physical fighting is allowed. This part is supposed to give each apprentice the chance to display their individual strengths."

Potter and Weasley were still facing off against each other, silently and motionlessly.

"So what does standard duelling expert class C extended entail?" John asked curiously.

Longbottom gave a quiet laugh. "It's the highest duelling class, meaning even the most complicated advanced spells are allowed. Not that any apprentice is ever experienced enough to know many of those, not at our age; but just in case someone does, the high class allows them to make use of their full spell arsenal."

"Isn't that unfair toward the other apprentice?" John asked, frowning.

"It can be," Neville allowed. "But then formal duelling isn't to everyone's liking so there will be differences in skill regardless. As an example, I fully expect Harry to -"

He broke off. Colourful flashes of light had suddenly begun to fly between the two wizards. Sherlock had no idea who had shot first. One second there was tense anticipation and the next the air was filled with a night club's worth of strobing multi-coloured lasers impacting briefly lit-up shields, then vanishing without a trace.

"Heinlein," auror Riverbloom commented, scratching something down on a piece of parchment, the end of a beautiful black quill wagging along.

"Stroganoff," auror Gentley replied with a frown. "This one goes to you."

"Harry and Ron have both chosen advanced offensive spell chains. Works well against an unprepared opponent, but in a situation like this, where the other fighter likely knows all the same spell chains you do, they can defend against each next spell in time. It's just a matter of inserting the right defensive spells into one's own chain at the right moment. Auror Riverbloom is Ron's apprentice master while Gentley has been teaching Harry. The Heinlein chain can more easily be adapted to spontaneous defence than the Stroganoff, so-"

He broke off abruptly, eyes widening. The two senior aurors were also sitting up attentively.

The frequency of the flashing lights had changed and sweat was now beading on both apprentices' faces.

"Harry switched mid-sequence…," Longbottom breathed, awe evident in his tone.

The duel lasted less than two minutes, all told. Everyone watched Weasley getting more and more frantic as Potter seamlessly switched chains mid-sequence not one, not two, but three times. Nobody was surprised when the redhead's unconscious form hit the floor with a cringe-worthy thud.

Potter was quick to revive and - according to Longbottom - heal his colleague. The two men took a few minutes to freshen up with some water, a few stretches and a couple of long, calming breaths. Then they were back in position.

"Ready?" auror Riverbloom asked.

"Ready," both young men replied and the silent staring recommenced.

"I remember spells being voiced out loud at the fight in Knockturn Alley, but Potter and Weasley haven't spoken a single word during their first fight," Sherlock mused.

"Wordless takes more focus," Longbottom replied. "Not everyone has that in field conditions. Also, voicing your curse won't hurt you if your enemy cannot hear it over the background noise. Battles, different from duels, tend do be noisy business, so…"

Potter suddenly collapsed. No light had flashed, nobody seemed to have moved, and yet there he lay.

"Nice one," Gentley said admiringly. "I didn't see that coming."

"Ron has come a long way," Riverbloom said, leaning back in his chair with a pleased air.

"I… cannot explain that one," Longbottom admitted.

"Internalized stunner," Gentley prompted and Longbottom's mouth fell open in a silent 'Oh.'

"Say what now?" John queried.

"Weasley has apparently practised the stunning curse so much that he can cast it not only wordlessly, but also without any perceivable wand motions. We call that 'internalizing' a spell," Gentley explained.

"Huh."

While Sherlock's mind wrapped itself in screaming knots at the realization that not only could a wizard curse you silently, they could also do it without any outward gestures, Weasley was reviving Potter and accepting the other man's congratulations for what was apparently a stunning feat of wizardry.

As the two apprentices prepared for their third round, Sherlock found himself wondering what the free fight would be like. He knew that Potter was a national wizarding hero and Weasley was largely just considered his side-kick. His own observations told him that Potter was also the more intelligent of the duo. But that did not preclude Weasley from training hard and developing some impressive skills of his own. This was shaping up to be even more entertaining that he had anticipated.

The third round was over as fast as the second one had been. There was no silent staring this time; the moment Riverbloom said "Go", Potter started aggressively casting what Longbottom determined to be "no textbook spell chain", but looked to be somehow even faster than the practised motions of the first round had been. Predictably, Weasley was no match for this wild onslaught and ended up splayed out on the stone floor for the second time.

"One out of three, not bad," Riverbloom commented, industriously marking things down on his parchment. "I remember when we first set these two against each other and Ron was so convinced Potter was better than him that he subconsciously self-sabotaged to the point of even failing a tripping hex."

"He wasn't the only one," Longbottom muttered below his breath, only just loud enough for Sherlock to hear. At Sherlock's quirked eyebrow, the young man blushed and quietly explained: "Harry has survived a killing curse. _Twice!_ It's been hard for many of us to overcome our hero worship, unwelcome though it was. Poor Harry…" The words were spoken lightly, though, and Sherlock was sure there were no hard feelings left between these young men.

They broke for lunch to give the two apprentices a chance to recover from the strain of their first three duels. Potter, Longbottom and Weasley chattered amiably and answered some of Sherlock and John's questions. The examiners, thankfully, had retreated to a different table, so the air was light and companionable.

"So have you planned anything for your free duel I should mentally prepare for?" Longbottom asked at one point.

Weasley gave a non-committal shrug; Potter, however, cackled like a comic-book supervillain.

The redhead's eyes narrowed. "Really, Harry? You're still set on going through with that?"

"Well, why not? There's no rule against it. Or have you ever known me to flaunt the rules?" Potter replied with a truly magnificent, fake-innocent smile. Sherlock considered himself a good actor, but the trustworthy, harmless little lamb routine this hardened war veteran could pull off impressed even him.

Weasley and Longbottom both groaned. "Just try not to get us kicked out, mate," Weasley sighed. Rallying, he showed a small smile of his own. "Seriously, though, this is gonna be fun. We usually enjoy training together, and field work has so far gone well for us, too…"

"I've heard stories," Longbottom interjected darkly.

Undeterred, Weasley continued: "...so I expect this to be even better. I mean, you made sure to have some additional tricks up your sleeve, right? I know I have." The twinkle in the redhead's eyes roused Sherlock's suspicions; not as much, however, as the odd dark patches between the man's back teeth that showed briefly when he allowed his smile to widen.

"Teeth, Ron?" Longbottom asked. "Well, I suppose that's more sanitary than mine, anyway. But there was just no way I was putting those seeds anywhere near my mouth."

Both of the man's friends were grinning like sharks, now. "Oh do tell, Neville. What did you smuggle into your exam, and where exactly did you hide it?"

Sherlock managed not to let his eyebrows shoot upward, but only just. He had not expected the shy, dutiful young man beside him to cheat on an important exam - and admit to it so freely.

"You're supposed to cheat." Potter must have seen the surprise Sherlock managed to suppress on John's face. Looking at the man, however, Sherlock saw his eyes meeting his own head-on. Interesting. Maybe being constantly hunted by a mad terrorist had honed the young man's powers of observation. Or possibly he got that from his abusive relatives. Either way, he was certainly perceptive.

"Before the exam, we have to swear a magic oath that apart from our wand, we carry 'nothing but the clothes on our bodies' into the exam," Potter continued. "Of course, as generations of auror apprentices before us must have done, our class quickly figured out that this still leaves the option of carrying additional tools with us _inside_ our bodies." He smirked, a rather attractive devil-may-care school-boy grin. "So, Neville, spill: Where did you hide your plants?"

"That one's a herbology prodigy," Weasley contributed. "Beat his opponent in the free duel by taking the fight into a surprise forest of devil's snare, poison ivy and snargaluffs."

"Unconventional, but effective," Potter added. There was affection and something very much like respect in both men's voices.

Not that the subject of their conversation seemed to appreciate the sentiment. Longbottom had flushed a glowing red, either at the praise or the question, and refused to answer. This only appeared to incite the other men to more laughter and mostly good-natured ribbing. They kept up the teasing and prodding until it was time for them to return for the second part of their practical examination.

Sherlock and John, for their part, followed Longbottom back to the observation room, this time taking their seats without question and staring eagerly at the blank wall. The previous duels had given Sherlock a fascinating insight into magical warfare that would surely stand him in good stead in the future. The next part, however, was promising to be  _fun._

He exchanged a quick glance with John. Meeting his partner's eyes, Sherlock flashed a brief smile and saw the corners of John's mouth quirk up in return. John Watson was a man of varied tastes, but one thing Sherlock had come to know and love about him early on was his appreciation of a well-staged prank. They were very much on the same page in hoping that whatever Potter and Weasley were planning would be spectacular.

They were not to be disappointed.

Oh, the duel started out calmly enough, with both wizards bowing to each other, then lobbing a few tentative, weak spells at each other. But as both men's systems came online, the food coma postponed due to more pressing issues, things rapidly picked up speed.

"They have one hour to show their prowess," Longbottom informed them. "Regardless of who gets knocked out how often. There are no rounds."

This part of the exam differed from the formal duels in more ways than just the general set-up. Very few curses were cast silently, and evasion began to factor more heavily into the fight than shielding. Sherlock had had no idea of the two combatants' flexibility until now; and neither, a quick glance at widened eyes and furiously scribbling hands informed him, had the young men's teachers.

"Diffindo," Potter yelled, a red curse shooting out of his wand and heading for Weasley's left leg. Weasley jumped into a perfect back-flip, shooting a voiceless, blue spell as he went. Potter blocked and returned fire with a fan of five different-coloured spells, only two of them voiced. Evasion being impossible this time, Weasley conjured a brick wall between himself and Potter, against which four of the five spells impacted harmlessly. The fifth one, however, screeched to a noisy halt in front of the wall, wiggled as though it were looking left and right before shooting around the wall and apparently finding its target, if the pained yell was anything to go by.

"Paparazzi curse, nice," Riverbloom commented. "You always did love those."

"They come in handy at times, despite only causing a brief shock."

Indeed, Weasley was soon up and at them again. He opted to wildly shoot spells at Potter from behind his impromptu defilade, this time prompting the other man to jump and whirl to avoid being hit. At some point, Potter conjured square blocks in thin air - which, for some odd reason were inscribed with a question mark each - and ran up them before throwing himself off the top step with a flip, shooting a curse down at Weasley as he went flying upside-down past the other man's position.

Weasley's counter went wide. Now Potter was inside his barricade, rendering it useless, and also much too close. A brief hand-to-hand scuffle ensued which neither man really excelled at. Apparently aware of the fact, the two soon separated again. Weasley, to his great misfortune, tripped over the end of his own brick wall and bumped his head on one of Potter's blocks still hanging in mid-air. A coin shot out of the top of the block with a harmonious 'pling' and the question mark vanished. The coin itself never touched the ground, also having vanished soon after appearing.

John broke out in gales of laughter. Everyone else looked as puzzled as Sherlock himself felt.

"Oh, priceless!" John wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Looking up at Sherlock, he visibly enjoyed the chance to be the one imparting knowledge, for once. "It's… It's from an old video game. You fight against various monsters and collect coins and items as you go. They are often hidden in blocks marked with a question mark and you have to jump up and hit the blocks to get the hidden coins. I had no idea wizards had spells inspired by non-wizarding pop culture!"

"They don't," Riverbloom said drily. "Except, apparently, your apprentice. Props to him for some impressive, complex spell-crafting."

Gentley laughed softly. "If making blocks hang in the air and emit spectres of coins is the worst we have to witness today, I shall count myself a very lucky witch."

"So it's… it's true about the Hamperton case? They really did…?" Longbottom questioned nervously.

"Oh, very much so," Gentley said with a shudder.

"Naked as the day they were born, the both of them," Riverbloom confirmed. "And rather than let that unexpected curse stop them, they turned around and mooned the enemy. In unison."

"You'd think that was the extent of it, but nooo."

"I have no idea how they communicated so fast-"

"I shudder to think that _this_ is a manoeuvre they practised!"

"-but in the time it took one of them to turn around and point his wand, the other had summoned up a Merlin-almighty fart."

"Which the other promptly lit on fire."

"I leave it to your imagination who did what," Riverbloom finished drily.

Sherlock shared a highly amused glance with John. His mild-mannered doctor friend had that look in his eyes like something he wanted to hold back was desperately trying to come out. Sherlock cocked his head questioningly. "Wizarding flame-thrower," John burst out and Sherlock could no longer contain his own laughter.

Following this unexpected exchange, everyone in the observation room was holding their breaths for the first inappropriate spell to be cast, but the men in the exam hall kept it PG. The other two blocks eventually got activated, one of them sprouting what Longbottom delightedly informed them was a lethal flesh-eating plant - demonstrated soon after by it ripping a good bite out of Weasley's shoulder - while out of the other popped a mushroom that Potter promptly stuffed into his own mouth, growing ten feet in size for the next five minutes. It didn't necessarily give him an advantage, expanding the surface Weasley could attack as much as it gave Potter the edge in physical combat, but it did drastically change the dynamics of the fight.

One moment, it seemed like Potter might have defeated Weasley, the redhead lying supine under one of the Boy Who Lived's grotesquely large boots; but then Weasley managed to fire off one last, desperate spell at the other man and it struck true.

Bats began crawling out of Potter's nose, scratching his face and flapping their wings everywhere before taking off.

The growth spell wore off and Potter shrunk back to normal size. He stood stock-still, looking at Weasley with an air of absolute disgust. "Ron. You didn't."

Weasley blanched. "Uh, sorry. I know Ginny is still a bit of a sore spot for you, I realize I shouldn't have -"

"Ron?"

"Y-yes, Harry?"

"You know this means war, right?"

Weasley gulped. "Please, Harry, can I just apologize -"

But Potter was unmoved. "Let me show you exactly where you can shove your apology." A sharp twist of his wand sent an odd yellowish spell toward Weasley that the flustered man failed to block. A moment later, Weasley's face scrunched up in a pained grimace.

"I believe Mister Weasley just discovered exactly how Mister Longbottom smuggled those plant seeds into his exam," Sherlock murmured to John. "Quite appropriate, given his family name." Both men snickered quietly.

Now, it was Weasley's turn to go mad. "You'll pay for this, Potter," he ground out between clenched teeth. Sherlock noted that he was walking a bit funny, likely having no idea how to counter Potter's spell. That did not seem to hinder the man any in slinging the nastiest, most unfair spells he could think of in Potter's direction.

Things went downhill from there.

By the time both men's anger had abated some, their respective clothing was hanging in tatters, the visible parts of their bodies - of which there were many - were bruised and bloody, Longbottom was cradling his flushed face in his hands and both examiners were seriously questioning their apprentices' previously assumed heteronormativity. Sherlock and John, for their part, were laughing tears. Potter and Weasley had certainly scored points for creativity.

Riverbloom consulted briefly with his colleague, then called a break and told the fighting cocks to fix their clothing and get some water.

After the break, the two men went at each other with renewed energy, but with a lot less creative anger.

There was a brief burst of frantic activity, Potter attacking Weasley with calculated aggression while Weasley did his best just to defend himself. Finally, it looked like he had won himself some breathing room by turning the floor underneath Potter to ice. The other man only slipped for a second, however, before blasting the ice with a fire curse.

This one made the wizards in the room flinch.

"Fiendfyre?? Is he quite mad?" auror Riverbloom spluttered as Longbottom blanched.

"He can control it." Gentley's voice was rough and her lips pinched, like she was trying to convince herself as much as her colleague.

Weasley seemed to have his own doubts, retreating to the furthest corner of the room. Potter did not send the fiery serpent he had conjured after his friend, however; instead, he directed it in a criss-crossing pattern through the room to melt every last bit of ice. Steam rose up, heavy and impenetrable.

The magical surveillance revealed its full powers by immediately switching to infra-red; Sherlock assumed that Weasley had no such advantage and Potter was now completely hidden from his view. They watched, curious, as Potter dismissed his fire servant and then used his wand to cut open his own left arm. John sucked in a quick breath but none of the wizards seemed perturbed at the sight.

"Harry Potter, gentlemen," Potter's mentor gestured toward the young man with as much sarcasm as a bun-wearing, ancient-looking witch could muster, "the reason why in two years of training, I have aged twenty. All the power and efficiency of the Hogwarts Express at full steam - all the self-preservation instinct of a niffler in a Black vault."

Potter withdrew something large from the small incision that had no business fitting into such a small space.

"He hid his cloak in an extended wizard-space pocket underneath his skin," Neville crowed. "Brilliant!"

The senior aurors seemed impressed, as well.

"I dare say this beats whatever Weasley stacked between his teeth during lunch," John mused.

Sherlock nodded cautiously. "Young Mr. Weasley seems to be quite resourceful as well, though. And let's not forget that these two have been friends since they were children. Weasley must know better than any of us what to expect from Potter."

Longbottom nodded along at his words. "He and Hermione have always been the closest to Harry. If anyone could have expected this and prepared for it, it's Ron."

In the exam hall, Weasley had by now found a spell to disperse the steam, prompting the surveillance...spell? Device?… to switch back to normal view. It showed them a room empty but for Weasley and an odd patch of mist still hovering close to the ground.

"That should have dissolved from Ron's spell," Riverbloom murmured.

"Unless it's not water," Gentley replied, perched on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

Weasley cautiously approached the mist. As he drew nearer, the mist gained solidity until it suddenly acquired a very specific form - that of a hairy, monstrously huge spider.

Longbottom buried his head in his hands. "An acromantula. Harry, that's just mean."

At Gentley's questioning look, Riverbloom explained: "Ron suffers from arachnophobia."

"Boggart," Gentley immediately concluded and Riverbloom nodded. "Did he smuggle that in _under his skin_ as well, though?!"

While the two senior aurors debated the dangers of such a manoeuvre, Longbottom quietly explained to Sherlock and John what a boggart was. Meanwhile, Weasley fought to overcome his fear and defeat the boggart. This was no mean task since he was simultaneously the target of a number of voiceless spells shooting at him out of thin air at random intervals. Weasley prevailed, however, casting _Riddiculus_ a couple of times without success before resorting to his patronus. 

Sherlock had  already seen Weasley's  patronus  in the crazier part of the duel, so he knew at once what the shimmering, ethereal animal was.  The things  proved even more  versatile than  he had initially assumed. This one ran through the boggart  in no time flat, making it explode with no discernible effort. 

"Times are strange when apprentices are more used to casting a patronus than fending off a boggart," Riverbloom commented with a melancholy tone.

"We really failed their generation," Gentley agreed. Longbottom shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Over in the exam hall,  Weasley had now disillusioned himself, making him nearly as impossible to track as Potter was  beneath his invisibility cloak.  The magical surveillance apparently had no setting for invisibility; the two combatants remained invisible to their audience. 

The fight became somewhat boring to observe  at that point. Lights would flash here and there, some of them impacting against shields, others passing through thin air and into the far walls. Sherlock wondered how the senior aurors were meant to grade anything in this case; it had been a while since anyone could tell who cast what. 

"How much time left?" he asked after this had gone on for several minutes.

"We're at the halfway mark," Longbottom replied, "thirty minutes left to go."

One of the senior aurors groaned.

Ten minutes later, John was conversing animatedly with Longbottom, Riverbloom was spinning idly in his chair while Gentley fought against letting her body slump from her habitual rigid posture.

Sherlock took it all in, then narrowed his eyes. The apprentices were supposed to show off in this duel. The initial touch had been nice, Potter smuggling in that cloak and boggart and Weasley disillusioning himself to even the playing field. But now, neither man got to show off. Had they forgotten the point of the exercise? Sherlock shook his head at the thought. No, Potter was too clever for that, even taking his brief rage at his friend's use of that bat conjuration into account. He would not make such a glaring mistake in an important exam.

Something else, then…

"Does this spell record the exam or just display it?"

Gentley quirked an eyebrow at him. "It also records. Why?"

"Could you put a copy of ten minutes ago on the wall beside the current duel?"

Her eyes widened. Obviously a quick mind; Sherlock approved. 

Five minutes later, the picture on the wall changed dramatically as auror Riverbloom marched into the examination hall and shattered the illusion Potter and Weasley had set the surveillance charm to play on repeat. It revealed the two men idly  reclining against the remains of Weasley's brick wall,  next to each other, sharing a bag of crisps and grinning at the senior auror like loons. 

"Now  we know what Weasley smuggled in  the bottomless pads between his teeth," Gentley commented, giving the bag of crisps the evil side-eye. "Good to know that young man has his priorities straight."  There was an amused twitch in the corner of her mouth, though. 

"To think they  found the time to attack, breach and rewrite the charm on the surveillance all while fighting  that impressive duel…," Riverbloom muttered  in disbelief when he stomped back into the room. "Monsters, the both of them."

Longbottom laughed. "Was there ever any question?"

The rest of the exam passed quickly. Both Potter and Weasley remained visible now, shooting elaborate spells interspersed with the occasional prank curse at each other and generally appearing to have the time of their lives. 

"Some people really are born for the fight," Riverbloom mused. "We have a good crop this year." He smiled briefly at Longbottom, whose mouth dropped open in surprise.  Sherlock wondered what had impacted the  young  man's self-esteem to such an extent that he would be surprised at well-deserved praise from a teacher. All manner of deductions spooled off inside his mind at lightning speed, but Sherlock pushed them aside. Better to focus on the duel while it lasted. 

The final ten minutes of the hour-long exam drew to their close and by the time a gong sounded,  Potter and Weasley were both grinning, sweaty and sure to have impressed their audience. 

"Their presence at a boring meeting in exchange for this - not bad, wouldn't you say?" John said lightly. 

Sherlock snorted. Only John could call a political encounter that ended with him in charge of a group of superheroes and wizards 'boring'. "Quite."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! If you have a minute, let me know what you did and didn't like. : )


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